Jane Journeys On

Square, then three honest hours at the elderly typewriter, writing at top speed ... tearing up all she had written ... writi

Avenue Gallery, an hour at Hope House Settlement with Emma Ellis or Michael Daragh, tea and dancing with Rodney Harrison, or dinner and a play with him, or a little session of snug coziness with Mrs. Hetty Hil

Rodney Harrison, who knows everybody who is anybody, has introduced me to some vaudeville-powers-that-be and I am encouraged to try my hand at what they call a sketch-a one-act play. It seems that they are in need of something a little less thin than the usual article they've been serving up to their p

-how I ador

llars and fame. Poor lamb! I wish you were on a job like this, instead of pegging away at your piano. I wish there could be as much fu

ly to m

si

a

Ninth, 8

have sat here for eight solid horrible days with a fine fat box of extra quality paper untouched and the keyboard leering at me, and not a line, not a word, have I written! The hideous period of beginning to be

overty and sickness and a debilitating climate and seven children. So could I. It's the awful quiet of this orderly room, the jeering taunt of Washington Square, looking in

ing order; I've mended every scrap of clothing I possess, reinforced all my buttons and run in miles of ribbon; I've visited the sick and even

thoughtfully arranged for that very purpose by Mr. Chopin or Mr. Tschaikovsky! While I-"out of senseless nothing to evoke"-I wish I did something definite and tan

the painted ocean is a bee-hi

a

ay N

ra

..! I

more than

res

r a snatch of food or sleep, but it's done and I adore it! (Says the author, modestly.) The heavenly mad haste of the actual doing m

but tri

a

rsd

, as Aunt Lyddy would say! I never experienced anything in

t it? You must,-y

onely telegraph station on the desert and the time is the

e table, another table and three chairs, yet there is a pathetic attempt at softening the ugliness,-a bun

d. She rises, goes to door of rear room and calls to Brother that the train has whistled for the bend. The two trains-east-bound and west-bound-are the events of their silent and solitary days. She brings hi

ble to do his work, has taught her, and she in reality carries on all the affairs of the lonely station. He stays i

ff stage. Girl runs out with the orders and the train is heard pulling out again. She comes in and is

ets that his sister was not at home the day he came to see them-the one time she'd left the station for more than an hour. She'd have liked him fine! They excitedly discuss the chances of the bandit's coming their way, for just beyond their station is the famous Pass through the mountains, through which so many rogues have ridden to fr

that he brings on a fit of coughi

, she tries to settle down to her

ays o

ights w

s held th

the roles of moat and drawbridge and castle wall, and herself for a captive princess, held by a robber chief, flinging herself into her fantasy with such abandon t

's h

nstant she is dazed and can hardly tell reality from romanc

riff, we aren't

d their secret, she throws herself on his mercy and tells of her brother's failing health, and of how she has had to do the work to hold the job, and begs him not to tell. He promises, and then has her send several messages for him in the name of the she

they do not see him. Brother hears her call him "Mister Sheriff," stares, takes in t

ps out, stumbles to table, waits until they are out of hearing, sends a quick message. Then he creeps to the door and conveys by his mutterings that he is going to untie The Hawk's horse and let him run away. Apparen

Girl wants to wire for another horse to be brought to him, but after a moment's grim thought, he decides to ju

her pity for The Hawk and her wicked hope that he may get aw

n deal straight through life; that there's a streak of decency in him for all the yellow; that he's h

"one crowded hour of glorious life" is worth a whole leaden existence. That reminds her of her graduating essay, which she digs out of the trunk, tied with

w.... He takes the blue ribbon and says he's going to keep it for luck. There

, shots! The Man springs to

ld pistol describing wavering circle

ere to me! That's not the

, tells her to stand aside.... "Th

bound train whistles. There is still a chance, if she can get him on board. Sound

oor but she seizes him roughly, p

s, "Harriet Mary-

alls, coughing terribly, to the floor. A look of fleeting horror crosses her face but she bangs and bolts the door. She d

eep him-quick-through the Pass!

snatches up her thin hand, kisses it, dashes out. She forces herself to take the message out to the

r thin shoulders. At a sound from the inner room she gasps, clutches her hands togeth

rt

think it will "get across?" Wi

oking Office with a 'script, enchantingly typed in

nti

a

te

bad" and will cast it at once. They talk vaguely of changes and "gingering

e any alterations made, but I thought i

nd they looked at me with their mournful made-up eyes I felt as if my wicked French heels were on their necks. I noticed one girl, particularly; there was something so gallant about her cracked and polished shoes,

ng the man turn the muffins. She opened a collapsed little purse and poked about in it for an instant and then shut it again and turned away. Before I knew what I meant to

She's been sick and out of work and fearfully depressed. I've got her name and address and if all goes as well with this vaudev

t tell you ho

ove, o

a

set the seal of his sober approval on it. He th